


Like A Prayer

by eternityforflesh



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Slash, Sticky, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternityforflesh/pseuds/eternityforflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The narcissistic, vainglorious Decepticon Air Commander loves the sound of his own voice to the exclusion of almost all else, but Starscream sometimes likes to let Megatron get a word in edge-wise when they're getting hot and heavy. Specifically, his own name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Madonna's song "Like A Prayer."  
> For your reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79fzeNUqQbQ
> 
> Warnings: sticky, but not explicitly so.

     It was just one word.

     But it defined him, encompassed all that he was, and, at the moment, that one word was his undoing.

     From his place alone on the floor, he dared to look up into the face of his hulking tormentor. The heavily shadowed frame loomed over him, optics shining deepest red, flooding the hard planes of the face with harsh light. Those optics bored into him, and his vents hitched. And he waited, his own dim optics pleading.

     “Starscream.”

     The rough, gravelly tone of Megatron's voice felt much like his rough hands to Starscream's heightened senses. Like his carelessly ruthless caresses, if such a normally gentle action as a caress could be attributed to a warlord feared across the stellarverse.

     The jet shivered. He loved the sound of his own name, and he loved it best when it slipped past the lips of his commander, his tyrant, his gladiator. His own grip on his knees tightened to keep himself from satisfying the demanding sensations behind his interface panel.

     The jet knelt under the only light left on in their darkened quarters before the silver mech who was seated on his berth. Starscream's panel was open, legs spread, and he was utterly at Megatron's mercy.

     “Starscream.” Megatron drew out the soft open glyphs of his name.

     He shivered again under the weight of that word from the one mech who always said it so perfectly, valve clenching desperately around nothing. A gasp escaped his vents.

     It occurred to Starscream that no mech had ever spoken his name so. Whether in anger or frustration or while commanding his army or while they were together in their berth, however Megatron chose to speak his name, it held a power, a tangible quality; it captured his essence and struck him right in his core.

     The glyphs of Starscream's name pushed through Megatron's vocalizer grounded him, lifted him up, filled him, emptied him. Here and now, in the deepest hour of the night, it felt like flying above the highest towers of Vos; something he could only do now in his dreams.

     “Starscream.” It was a whisper so quiet he had to strain to believe he had heard it.

     And again as a sigh. He heard the tell-tale _snick_ of a panel opening and then came the rasping slide of metal against metal.

     Dropping his gaze from his mate's optics, the jet saw that Megatron was palming his spike slowly. He forced back the smirk threatening to twist his lips. It wouldn't do to indulge in anything other than the sound of that dark voice.

     But he still fanned his wings out enticingly, because Starscream couldn't resist baiting the mech watching him.

     “Starscream.” It was a growl, low and edged like the blade Megatron had wielded so many years ago in the arena. He almost missed the increase in the rasping sound coming from Megatron's lap as his vents stuttered loudly.

 _Primus help me_ , he thought as he offlined his optics. The tone, the pitch bleeding with the strain of Megatron's systems holding back his desire all held inside his name. He felt like he was falling, his white wings shorn from his frame by sharpened instruments. Falling so fast and so hard, burning through Cybertron's atmosphere. A blinding star against the black night.

     “Starscream.” It was a gentle rising and falling, almost a croon. And he was caught, saved from crashing. He arched his frame into the arms he imagined were holding him.

     The throb in his valve was joined by the pounding of his spark, and Starscream's frustrated need pooled between his thighs in an almost painful spasm.

     His optics found Megatron's again and the jet widened them beseechingly. He had no choice in when he would be allowed to release the charge building in his frame. Starscream could only listen to his mate's voice and let his own frame respond as it would. He bit back a whine of frustration.

     Knowing the silver mech would save Starscream's favorite pronunciation until Megatron himself was close to overload, the jet let go. His wings drooped, his hands loosened their grip on his knees, and he sank back onto his thrusters as his frame relaxed.

     Optics flaring, Megatron shifted to the very edge of their berth, fisting his spike viciously as he saw Starscream give up the last of his control.

     The warlord whispered and rasped and growled his name, the word falling from his lips in time with the strokes to his spike. Pleasure surged within Starscream's frame. It rolled from his core to his extremities and back to coil thick and heavy around his panel, just to spread again.

     The loop built, feeding back into itself, spiraling him higher, until it felt like there was no end and no beginning; just delicious, dizzying heights of desire.

     Letting his head fall back, Starscream heard the tension straining Megatron's voice and knew the silver mech was close to his climax. Instinctively, the jet rose up from his thrusters curled beneath him and leaned toward the sound of his name, hands dropping to his sides.

     A blast of heated air from the shuddering frame before him set his wings trembling.

     “Starscream.” It was a pinched sound, partly ragged groan, partly hiss. The jet shook his head with the stress of holding his overload back. His darkened optics began to sting so he onlined them, the glare of the light above him flooding his visual feed.

     A pleased sigh, then rustling from the berth and a muffled _thud_ let him know that Megatron had slipped from the berth to join him on the floor.

     The next call of his name came from near his upturned chin. His optics focused on the light shining upon him, coolant streaming down his face, taut frame nearly singing with suppressed need, it came.

     “Starscream.” It was soft, but clear. A command, a concession, a request. A smooth tumble of glyphs coated in reverence. Just like a prayer.

     And the blinding white of Starscream's overload swallowed the light, swallowed his jerking frame, swallowed the bursts of static spitting from his mouth. He knew nothing for a few frozen moments but sizzling, singeing, circuit-shorting ecstasy.

     Strong arms caught him and pulled him tight against scarred plating as he tipped forward, undone and thoroughly spent. Rough hands smoothed over his curves and angles, soothing the sting of his overwhelmed sensors.

     Snuggling closer into Megatron's embrace, Starscream sighed, raising a hand to lay it over his mate's spark.

     He had his own static-laced, wonder-filled word for when he came back to himself feeling sated and content, and it, too, was like a prayer.

     “Megatron.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll never be able to karaoke this song without laughing now. *sigh* Hope you enjoyed, dear reader! R&R, if you please.


End file.
